


Light and Air and Color, A Reconciliation

by dreamkist



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: I'm Sorry, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, My First Fanfic, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Psychobabble, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamkist/pseuds/dreamkist
Summary: Loss & torment.  Forgiveness & love.





	

**Contrition**

Cold water pierced through him. That was all Will was aware of as the waves dashed against him and pulled him under while also pulling Hannibal away from his grasp. He knew they wouldn’t last long in the water. He expected panic to set in, but he only felt a numb peace. He tried to keep his head above the water while searching for any sight of Hannibal.

Then there was light, and he was pulled from the water. Chiyoh had arrived in time to drag them on a boat. She set their course and then treated Hannibal’s bullet wound. Will blearily watched, only half aware. She helped Hannibal to one of the beds and then stitched up Will’s cheek and other wounds. He quickly fell into a deep sleep.

The first week was spent in almost complete silence. Both men were exhausted, and Chiyoh kept her distance even in the limited space. Will also did his best to avoid the other two passengers. He stayed in the small cabin and didn’t speak to Hannibal when he brought him food. He could tell Hannibal wanted to speak to him but was waiting for the right time. The sound of water was a soothing presence, and Will enjoyed the comforting rock of the waves. When he slept he dreamed of nothing.

After the first week on the water, Will carefully prodded at his cheek. It was time to remove the stitches. He cut the sutures and began to pull them out. He found himself thinking that the scars from the stab wound would be a fine addition to his growing collection. That brought on a smile that he saw in the mirror that pulled at his cheek.

Will left the cabin and sat at the little table one day. Hannibal seemed to take that as a good sign. “I am glad you are with me, Will,” Hannibal tentatively began. “What I took from you.”

“No,” Will cut him off, not ready for that discussion. Hannibal looked down at his food and didn’t try to make conversation again.

For three weeks they rode across the waves of the Atlantic. They finally arrived at a marina in the Azores on the island of São Miguel. There wasn’t much to see of the island in the early morning hours. Hannibal made arrangements, and Will looked out over the dark water. He felt empty.

Hannibal had a plane to take them from the island. A driver took them along a tree-lined road to the airport without Chiyoh. Will assumed she would take the boat and continue her distant guardianship of Hannibal.

They boarded the private plane and flew east into the dawn.

**Confession**

It was evening when they reached Turkey. After landing, they walked to the coast where Hannibal had a smaller boat ready for them to use.

Hannibal had a house on the island of Burgazada prepared. “The Princes’ Islands were used as places of exile for royals in Byzantine times,” Hannibal explained. They walked up the streets and passed houses ranged up the hill until they reached their destination.

It was a small house, with two stories, painted white with shuttered windows and nestled amongst pine trees. They went through the gate and up three steps to the door. Inside, Will looked around. They were in a sparingly furnished living room: simple but still elegant. The ceilings were painted blue, and the floors were old wood. A fireplace and bookshelves were in the room.

A striking painting took pride of place. It reminded Will of a Goya work. It presented figures, sculpture-like, that seemed unfinished. Darkness was taking away pieces of them. They conveyed a sense of turmoil. Fighting unseen enemies. One figure was whole, depicted in great detail and composed of a strong combination of shadows and light.

The kitchen was at the back of the house. A staircase led up to two bedrooms and a bathroom. Will claimed the bathroom. His tan skin and dark hair were stark in the white room. He looked at his scars in the mirror and ran a hand over the one on his abdomen. The wound on his cheek was healing. He took his glasses off and set them on the counter. He stepped under the water of the shower and let the warmth run over him.

Will dreamed of blood black in the night. Old fears and revelations with a shadowy figure always by his side.

+++

Hannibal went to the market and made breakfast the next morning. They sat at the table, and after Hannibal had served both of them he said, “There is a place I want to show you in Istanbul.”

Will looked at him. “I don’t think we should,” he said after a moment.

Hannibal took a deep breath and asked, “How long will this continue?”

“I’m here. Isn’t that enough?” Will challenged, brows raised as he looked at Hannibal.

“There it is. That desire for revenge.” Hannibal smiled. “Suffering makes us clean, yes, Will?”

“There has been a disproportionate amount of suffering between us. What exactly have you suffered?”

“Your absence,” Hannibal said simply.

Will sighed and leaned back in his chair. He studied Hannibal. As though if he looked hard and honestly enough he could look beyond the past.

Hannibal changed the subject when it became clear that Will was done with the exchange. “There is a museum on the island. The home of the author Sait Faik.” Will remained silent. “I picked up one of his books.” He stood and placed the book on the table. Will brought the book closer and flipped through the pages. The language was foreign: Yalnızlık dünyayı doldurmuş. Sevmek, bir insanı sevmekle başlar. Burada her şey bir insanı sevmekle bitiyor.

**Penance**

Will walked along the edge of the water. He wandered the streets that were lined with white houses. The dome of the Greek Orthodox church loomed over the town. Someone played an instrument, the bow dragged across the strings, and its wail followed him down the street. Will went to the market. An older man was sitting in front of a cafe, reading, and he watched Will go by.

Will instinctively knew the man recognized him. He picked up a book on the Turkish language and went back to the house along a different road. On the way a little dog began to follow him. Its tail wagged even as he told it to go away. He didn’t want to bring the dog home. Didn’t want to get attached to it or anything else. They might have to leave at any time, and he had left enough behind.

When he arrived at the house he saw that Hannibal had gotten fishing equipment. It was sitting by the door and clearly meant as a gift for him. He went upstairs and opened a window in his bedroom and let cool air from the sea wash over him. As night came on, lights spotted the other islands and Istanbul, farther away. Will settled on the bed in the dark room and distantly wondered what the man he had seen would do.

+++

There was a trail that led to the top of the island, Hristos Tepesi, and the next day Will set out to climb it. The rocky path curved up to the top. Ancient Byzantine capitals and disparate stone fragments were littered around the little chapel. Over the centuries structures had been built where older structures had once stood. The hill offered an impressive view of the islands and the Asian side of Turkey. He looked out over the water. The sky was painted in blushing shades as the sun was setting to the west.

As it got darker he made the trek back down the hill. He neared the main street, and the man he had seen the day before approached him. “Merhaba,” the man said in greeting and introduced himself as Michalis. “What brings you to Burgaz?”

“Do we really need to play this game?” Will queried. He wasn’t interested in doing any dissembling.

Michalis dropped the friendly smile he had worn. “The offer is for him.” He told Will he would be returning to Greece on Monday and where his house was located on the island. “Come see me before I leave,” he said. “I don’t have to mention you if you help me.”

Will continued walking. He turned the proposal over in his mind.

Upon entering the house, Will was greeted by an exuberant dog. It was the same dog that had followed him the day before. Hannibal had let the dog inside and was apparently preparing food for it. Will looked between the dog and Hannibal and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Hannibal raised an eyebrow and continued cooking. Will led the dog upstairs and gave her a bath. He realized it was already too late to avoid becoming attached to her.

That night, Will dreamed he was a child again. He sat across from Hannibal the way he had in the past, before he learned particular truths about himself. They didn’t have to speak in his dream. Everything was understood. He saw buildings erected on top of the remains of older buildings. Stone shifting to embrace the new additions. Transformations settling into his bones.

+++

It was Sunday, and people were fishing along the coast. The modest-sized town was busy and crowded. The many faces made it easy to disappear in the crowd. Will had offered to go shopping with Hannibal. Hannibal bought some red tulips and found the freshest olives and pomegranates. As they walked back to the house dark clouds hung low across the sky.

In the house, Hannibal placed the flowers in a vase. They were bright red in the space. They ate at the table and talked about the island. In the quiet spaces Will thought about his life with Molly. “You look like you have something on your mind,” Hannibal stated.

“That’s an interesting work.” Will indicated the painting that had intrigued him with a tilt of the head toward it, deflecting.

“Archetypes engaged in struggle against themselves. Light and shadow must intertwine to create a full person,” Hannibal explained. “Jung said that the thorn in the flesh is necessary for our transformation into wholeness. Without something to fight against we do not become our complete selves.”

“I don’t think Jung had _you_ in mind as the thorn, Hannibal,” Will replied with amusement. He was reminded of their past conversations. What it meant to be alive.

“Still, it would be a lacking image, indeed, to have no shadows.”

“Indeed.”

The clouds that had sprinkled the sky earlier had gathered, and the energy before a storm was in the air. The dog had made herself comfortable on a chair. Will waited for Hannibal to go upstairs after they were done with dinner, then he pulled on a jacket and slipped out into the wind.

He found the man’s house on the edge of town as the rain began to fall. It was close to the sea and a pier. A cross was on the door. Michalis let Will in and led him to a desk where he had a wanted poster laid out. “You are making the right decision, Mr. Graham.”

Will nodded and took his hands out of his pockets. To himself he murmured, “‘The one who loves must share the fate of the one he loves.’”

**Absolution**

Will stepped close behind the man and covered his mouth and nose until he lost consciousness. He lowered the man to the floor and made sure he was still breathing. He carried him to the water and threw him in. The water buffeted the pier, and his body quickly disappeared. Will watched for any sign of him for a while. When he was sure Michalis wouldn’t be emerging from the water, he went back into the house and took the information on Hannibal.

As he went back outside, he felt like he had awakened from a long sleep. A certain thrill swelled inside of him. Will walked back to their house in the rain. Its sharp chill was invigorating.

Will entered their home and found Hannibal standing at the fireplace. The room was lit up with the flickering light of flame. He pulled the wanted poster from his jacket and threw it into the fire. They watched as Hannibal’s photo was eaten by the flames. The fire was reflected in Hannibal’s eyes. He looked at Will with a question written across his face.

“Love covers a multitude of sins. I want to enjoy the best in you, Hannibal.” He paused before adding, with a hint of humor, “Just _try_ for moderation in all things?”

“For you, Will, anything,” Hannibal answered with a smile. He had a wondering look in his eyes.

It was an easy understanding that passed between them. A rapprochement of their true, complete selves. Will hesitantly reached out and cupped Hannibal’s face with one hand. The rain that was still on it marked Hannibal’s cheek. Will smiled at him. He brought his thumb to Hannibal’s lips, rubbed it over them, and let it rest there. He watched as Hannibal pressed a kiss to it and parted his lips to taste it.

**Author's Note:**

> References:
> 
> Il Purgatorio by Dante Alighieri  
> The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov  
> Alemdağ'da Var Bir Yılan by Sait Faik  
> 1 Peter 4:8  
> Carl Jung


End file.
